Level 26 Ch1
by papercliped
Summary: Myra lives in a dystopian world where her country, Deos, is in a brutal war with Ursa, a massive neighboring country that has wanted Deos's land for centuries. She is part of an organization called the Fray, which trains teenagers through a series of "Levels" to fight.


I hate the color white. It brings back memories, memories of pain and agony. Being in a pure white room with fluorescent micro-lights lining the walls is almost more than I can handle. I lie on one of eight plexi-glass operation tables, tubes jutting out of my body, electrodes taped to my head. My left leg throbs from a deep knife wound that is healing at an unnatural pace, thanks to the tube stuck into it.

I lift up my head to look around at the other teenagers in the room. To my left is a boy with pale blond hair and tanned skin. I turn to my right and see the familiar face of a girl. Her black hair splays across the table and drips off nearly halfway to the floor. She has a rounded nose and high cheek bones with flawless ivory skin. I think that we were in Level 11 together, though I can't seem to remember her name.

Level 11 was in the middle of my second year in the Fray, an organization that trains the children of Deos for the war against Ursa. We've been fighting for fifty two long years and are still going strong. The only problem with the long-term fighting (aside from the fact that we're fighting) is that a lot of people die. Thats were the Fray comes in. They supply new soldiers, trained from a young age to survive. When I finish my Levels, I'll fight in the war.

It would be a fallacy for me to say that I'm not grateful to them, but I would also be lying if I told you that I agreed with their ways. The Fray may mean well, but training children is horrible, even if it does pay off in the end. Still, who am I to complain? I was very young when I joined and they have given me a better life than I could have ever had if I stayed with my family. Caught in the middle of a war, blindly helpless, floating in a gray limbo. Fighting for your country, making a difference in a tangible world of black and white. Which one would you choose?

I hear a couple pairs of footsteps and then a woman's voice whispers, "She's awake!"

I only have time to look up in confusion before someone slaps a sedation pad on my shoulder and I black out.

-

When I open my eyes I am no longer on the operating table. I've been put in my normal quarters. This consists of a massive cushy bed, and a closet overflowing with official uniforms and training clothes (that's right, we have to train for our training). The oval table next to my bed hovers silently while the alarm clock buzzes away.

"Damn it" I mumble sleepily.

"Language, Myra" a man's laughing voice scolds me from the room speaker, "Get up, wouldn't want to be late for your final Level introduction"

"I know the drill, Christian, but would it kill you to let me _sleep_ for once?"

"Don't be so stubborn Myra, you better be in the Glass Room in ten minutes. You know you'll be in trouble if you miss this."

I hear a click from the speaker and know Christian has hung up. He always was know for his brevity. Sighing, I clamber out of bed and get dressed in my training clothes; a red tank top paired with cargo pants and black boots. They never let us wear long sleeves while training, it would hide our tattoos. Every member of the Fray has their ID number tattooed on their forearms, mine is number 1806. I yawn loudly, hoping Christian can hear me. It was ridiculous for me to think that he would let me sleep late and miss the introduction of my final Level.

Level 26.

-

I make my way though the blinding white hallways to the Glass Room. As I approach it, I flatten myself against the wall and listen to the nearly inaudible voices coming from it.

"Are you sure they'll be ready for this?"

"Of course they will, they have all been training for this most of their lives"

A crackle from the hall speaker causes me freeze.

"Myra have you forgotten about the micro-cams imbedded in the walls, or did you actually think that you had found a blind spot"

I roll my eyes and walk over to the Glass Room. I press my hand against the cool glass, which takes a DNA sample. Once it has confirmed I'm me, part of the glass slides away and lets me enter the room. Standard procedure.

The other people in in my Level are already here, but I notice that the amount of them seems to have proliferated since my previous Level. Nine others instead of five. Four more people to find once we begin Level 26. Terrific.

I stand in the line of trainees next to a girl with short, spiky, pale hair, and amber eyes. Her left eye has a long scar running over it. A hazy memory of nurses talking about a girl who had been blinded in one eye but requested to keep the scar after they gave her back her eyesight surfaces. I think they said the girl's name was Verse. We are allowed to keep on scar from our training, as a reminder of our past once we fight in the war. I haven't gotten one worth keeping, and like most people, I want to save one from my last Level. Normally they aren't very noticeable but Verse's scar definitely stands out.

"Myra, I see you are the last to arrive, as usual" one of the officials greets me, "It seems that you have kept that record alive after all these years"

"Uhh... Yes M'am, I have"

"Well then, now we can get started. You all may have noticed that there are ten of you in this Level this year, instead of the usual six. This is the standard procedure for Level 26, which is a challenge Level, being your last one. Five boys and five girls. The Fray is in unanimity that you are all capable of passing this Level, but do not let that get you overly confident, as confidence can be a problem if it is large enough in size. Should you fail this Level, you will have to take it again until you pass. However, if you fail it more than three times, you will be demoted and have to do over all your Levels" the official states firmly, "None of you are innocent, you all know how to protect yourselves and survive. This will not be like other Levels. Consider yourself warned"

And she's right. We are not innocent. We are not children.

We are the white that penetrates the black.


End file.
